Leave it off the Ice
by Capponi
Summary: Carries on from chapter 61(SOTL)where Lecter is revelling in the luxury of freedom. A little glance at his thoughts on his first night of freedom.


NOTE: This fanfiction begins with Chapter 61 in SOTL where Lecter is revelling in his new freedom in the hotel room. Just a little look at his actions in more detail than the Great Thomas Harris used. Just a little idea I've been festering for many weeks. Please enjoy.Ciao!  
  
Leave it off the ice.  
  
' Down the deep carpet in the corridor of the Marcus Hotel, a room service waiter trundled a cart.  
  
At the door of suite 91, he stopped and rapped softly on the door with his gloved hand. He cocked his head and rapped again to be heard over the music within-Bach, Two and Three-Part Inventions, Glen Gould at the piano. "Come." The gentleman with the bandage across his nose was in a dressing gown, writing at the desk. "Put it by the window. May I see the wine?" The waiter brought it. The gentleman held it under the light of his desk lamp, touched the neck to his cheek. "Open it but leave it off the ice," he said, and wrote a generous tip across the bottom of the bill. "I won't taste it now," He did not want the waiter handing him wine to taste-he found the smell of the man's watchband objectionable.'  
  
Once the waiter had left his room, Dr Lecter folded his letter to Dr Chilton once and slid it into the heavy envelope waiting. He didn't lick it, simply folded the flap under and addressed it in his unique hand.  
  
A small smile flickered over his dark lips-oh what he wouldn't he give to be there when dear Fred opened his letter from his old friend. Laughing softly, Dr Lecter stood and walked to the ensuite, turned the powerful shower on and slipped his dressing gown off.  
  
He stood for a while, greatly enjoying the privacy freedom brought. He closed his eyes and savoured the cool air on his naked body before slipping into the steam of the shower. He kept his eyes shut as the hot water slipped through his hair and enveloped his body in its warmth. After 8 years of tepid, observed showers every two days, Dr Lecter found this powerful blast of heat extremely pleasurable.  
  
Leaning against the soaking wall he slipped down until he relaxed against the curved porcelain of the bath. He lay a while letting the blast hit his entire form before sitting up, knees under his chin, fully facing the blast. As the water slicked back his dark hair and rolled down his pale back in smooth rivers, bumping over the occasional ruts of his spine, Dr Lecter let his mind wander over the last letter he had on his mailing list- Clarice Starlings.  
  
By sending a correspondence to the young woman, he knew he would cause her more trouble in her further career yet he could easily foretell that Clarice would never be a FBI agent-not truly. The world was too twisted for such a straight arrow to ever fit in.  
  
Yes, he was definitely going to send her a parting piece of him. Possibly the last for many years. Now, what to write? Instantly his mind whirled with complicated mind games, sentences that hung heavy with subtle innuendo, cutting insight and carefully woven consolation. She had been rather decent to him, all things included. Let's not be too cruel to her.  
  
Dr Lecter turned his head sidewards, listening to the water slamming against his skull and into his ear. Oh what fun he could have with Clarice Starling before he accepted her as his own. There was little question in his mind that they would eventually be together some how. For once though, he could not fathom how they could come to be.  
  
It was not the first worryingly new emotion Starling had unleashed in him. He chose not to dwell long on the other, if it grew from its current seed he knew their futures would be entwined in a very different way-not an unpleasant one yet not what Dr Lecter had planned.  
  
Pushing the streaming water out of his eyes then pushing his sopping hair out of his face, Dr Lecter stood again, allowing a few more sweet seconds of heat before the water was stopped. Staring into the steam clouds, he mouthed her name once, head tilted. His dark eyes flashed as he turned his head to push the curtain out of the way and stepped onto the floor. Steam obscured his vision and he stood a while in the foggy oblivion, slick body stretched into a postured stance. A flick of his head and he slung a towel around his waist and padded into the main room.  
  
Standing by the window, he stared into the steamed reflection of himself. Dark hair hung in vulpine slicks either side of his narrow face. His eyes were engulfed in shadow. Wiping the window with a hand he peered west, back in the direction he had travelled earlier that day. Narrowed his eyes to the horizon where thousands of lights, moving and stationary, rising high into the inky sky. He wondered if one of those lights lit Clarice Starling. He sat slowly into the chair and composed his letter to Clarice Starling. Once finished, he stood once more, sucking in a deep breath and stood once more by the window. Little drops had coursed down from his hand swipe, giving his hand a webbed look.  
  
He rested his head against the cool, moist glass, looking back East. He could see Orion, bright in the sky. The face of Clarice Starling burns bright in his mind.  
  
Far to the East, on the Chesapeake shore, from under the light of Orion, Clarice Starling rested her head against the cool window of Noble Piltchers bathroom, looking West. The face of Dr Lecter burns bright in her mind.  
  
The next time Orion shines this bright in the year 2000, they will watch it together. 


End file.
